Guilt
by KimberleyIonaSmith
Summary: A brief story about what might have happened if Bella had 'slipped', looking at how the Cullens process guilt.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: this is fan fiction, based on the well known Twilight series, I didn't write the original, just this._

We don't hunt too close together. Even when we say that we're hunting together, that doesn't mean we run through the forest, hand in hand, then settle down to share a nice big elk.

Of course, there are plenty of times when it is nice to run together, even - sometimes, cheesily - hand in hand. There are plenty of things to do in the forest together, plenty of times when it feels good to be close. It's just that hunting isn't one of those times.

When a vampire is hunting, their instincts take over, they are more animal than human. They do not play nice. We do not play nice. We hunt alone because there's a risk that, if we hunted too near each other, we'd end up hunting each other. I couldn't eat another vampire, of course, but, when I hunt, another vampire becomes competition, and that is intolerable.

I was hunting alone, then, not because there was anything wrong, nor because anyone had made a mistake, but because I always hunt alone.

So, I was alone when I caught the scent. The delicious, enticing scent.

I didn't know what it was at first. I wasn't hunting humans, not in my mind.

But, then, nor was I hunting any kind of animal.

At that moment, alone in the woods, with no competition, I was hunting only the blood. It smelt delicious, perfect, rich. I didn't confuse the scent with any familiar quarry. I didn't stop to consider what creature held that delicious blood. I didn't think about any living thing at all. I was thinking about blood, mouthwatering blood.

And, since I was alone, with no rivals to beat me in the race, I reached the blood and I drank it. I drank it all. And it was amazing. It was delightful. It was life and joy and so deeply satisfying. I had never felt so sated.

Then, I sensed someone else coming, running full pelt towards me, swearing loudly.

"Stop saying it's too late." He was crashing through the undergrowth towards me, talking to someone else, as he ran. "What do you think is achieved by saying that? . . . I can see her. . . . Hell. It's too late. . . Yes, I do realise that's precisely what you've been saying . . . Oh, shut up. "

The vampire was behind me then, but I didn't mind. He couldn't do anything. I'd had it all. All the blood was in me, there was only an empty body at my feet.

Only an empty dead man at my feet. There was still a look of horror frozen on his face. He was wearing a blue shirt.

Suddenly, I was a person again, and I could see what I'd done. I was Bella Cullen and I'd just killed a man.

I screamed.

He'd been alive, only a few moments ago. He had a family, a life. I'd attacked him. I'd been the awful monster in the woods that nobody quite believes in. I'd destroyed him. I was a murderer. Worse than a murderer, I was an evil monster. I'd killed a man, drank his blood, and I'd loved it.

It couldn't help anyone, it couldn't make me more human, but I couldn't stop myself. I stood in the forest, next to the body of my victim, and screamed.

Then Edward's hands were around me, pulling me into a tight embrace, and he was whispering, "Bella, my love, I'm so sorry. I ran and ran, and I'm usually so fast, but I wasn't fast enough. By the time Alice saw that the plane was coming down, it was too late, I couldn't reach you in time. Oh, Bella, I did this to you. I'm so sorry."

I pulled away to look into his eyes, those tortured eyes. He hated himself for what he was and for what he'd made me. I was a murderer and he blamed himself because without him I would never have become a vampire.

There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to comfort him, and to reassure him that he was still loved, still and always passionately loved. There was nothing for him to apologise for. There was no reason for that haunted look in his eyes, that look of terror that told me he was afraid I was going to leave him. I wanted to tell him that it was alright, he was safe in my love, I would never, could never, hate him. I wanted to confront him too; to yell at him for hating us both so much. I wanted to scream at him for daring to regret our love. How could he say that he was sorry for living me, sorry for changing me, sorry that we were together?

But, all my mouth actually said was "what plane?"

He grimaced, "come on, Bella," he said softly, "come this way. Jasper will be here in a few minutes and he'll . . . um . . . clean up."

"No," I started to say, "I should. I can't make Jasper do that."

Edward gave a grim smile, "actually, Jasper thinks it's about time he was put on clean-up duty, his turn is rather overdue. Come on, love, come home."

Of course, I'd 'slipped'. It had happened to the Cullen's before. It had happened to Jasper a few times, I knew that. I'd heard the stories. I'd never thought that I was immune, of course not. But, I'd never really thought about what it would be like, either. For Edward this was business as usual, I suppose.

It was only new for me. For me and that poor man.

Edward tugged on my hand, saying more things in his soft, loving voice. I didn't listen to him. I couldn't bear to hear him say anything kind to me right then, but I knew that he would want to.

I let him lead me home.


	2. Chapter 2

When I was human, however awful I felt, it ended eventually.

When I was a human, details faded from my mind, and the past moved away from me.

When I was a human, I could sleep.

I never realised what a release it is to cry yourself to sleep. I always thought it was awful: crying and crying until you eventually wore yourself out with tears and collapsed until morning. But now I can see that it's worse to cry and cry and never wear yourself out. Now there is no forgetting and no oblivion.

That awful moment when I looked down and saw the face of the man I killed is still here, as clear as if I was still seeing him.

Worse than that, the intense pleasure I took in his blood is still here. I cannot forget how much I enjoyed that delicious feed.

I'd run back to the house, with a panicked Edward hot on my heels.

Esme met mecat the door and went to hug me. But, today, her embrace seemed suffocating. I couldn't bear to be touched. I couldn't even stand to gave her look at me. I slipped around her, dodging her loving arms and sympathetic smile. Likecs coward, I ran away, up the stairs to my bedroom.

My young husband followed me. Like his mother, he only wanted to help.

Ungratefully, I scowled at him, wrapped up in hating myself. Hating myself so much that I despised poor Edward, and even Esme, for being blind enough to love me.

Edward hadn't helped particularly. In fact, we'd had a massive row.

I tried pacing up and down a little. He followed, trailing behind me, closer than I wanted him.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I should never have let that happen. It wasn't an isolated enough place. I should never have taken you there."

It was irritating how he did that: blaming himself for 'letting' me kill, as if I belonged to him.

"I am an adult, Edward. You're not responsible for me."

"Bella, you mustn't blame yourself. It was a mistake."

"Treading on someone's foot is a mistake, stumbling across an injured man and killing him is murder!"

Ignoring my snappish tone, he followed me, still wringing his hands.

"He would have died anyway, Alice said that he didn't have a chance and he didn't know what was happening. I was close enough to hear his thoughts. He didn't suffer, Bella. I . . ."

"Stop it! Stop telling me about mind reading and prophecy and blood lust and vampires and . . . please stop. I don't want any of that right now. I killed someone."

Edward sat down on the stool in front of my dressing table, watching me as I threw myself back on the bed.

I guess - at first - some foolish part of me was hoping that a lie down would help.

I lay there, but my body didn't relax. I don't get tired now, or tense, so lying down doesn't help. It's yet another human crutch I need to do without, like having a drink or eating chocolate.

I sat up again and looked at him, my beloved husband.

"You don't understand," I said, "I'm a monster."

He looked as though I'd slapped him.

"Bella, I . . . I promise you that I understand this. I know how you're feeling, only too well."

Of course, he had killed too. He had hunted humans and murdered them in cold blood. He knew all about the dammed pleasure of gorging yourself on human blood. Edward had done just what I had done. He'd donevfar more of it. He'd spent years as a murderer.

I tried, but failed, to repress a shiver.

Though he couldn't read my mind right now, Edward saw my disgust and - I can't blame him - he fled the room.

I should have felt bad for hurting him. But, how could I feel any guilt for a few mean words when I had just killed someone? I didn't feel guilt for wounding Edward. I just felt despair. Of course I had hurt the man I loved. I was bound to hurt him. I was a monster.

I knew why that had hurt Edward. He used to call himself a monster. It was why he didn't want to change me. He didn't want to condemn me to this soulless existence. While I was still human, he thought that I was pure and innocent. He hadn't wanted to turn me into a vampire.

We'd rowed about it. I'd brought his whole family into the conversation and I'd won. I'd forced Edwards's hand. Despite his better judgement, I'd become a vampire. I'd got what I wanted. Well done me. I bet that pilot I killed today would be proud to have played a role in my great romance. What a beautiful happily-ever-after to our fairy tale: me wiping fresh human blood from my lips while me husband hates himself behind me.

We're trully together now. Together in our blood-stained monstrous eternity.

I know he wanted to help, but I was in no mood to hear his sympathy right now. I didn't deserve sympathy. I didn't deserve him. He would be better off without me.

He was right when he wanted to leave me human. He was right and I was wrong and, if only I hadn't been so stubborn and foolish, that man would be alive today.

Why was I so naive? Did I think I would be the one vampire to rise above blood lust?

Why was I so greedy? Why wasn't a human lifetime enough for me?What made me deserving of forever when all the other humans make do with one life?

What did I think I was giving to Edward? I thought this was a love story, but it had turned into a horror film.

I lay alone on our bed, missing the ability to sleep, and failing to gather the courage to leave Edward.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Jasper who made me come out of my room.

I'd been expecting someone else. I would have expected Alice, jumping around trying to distract me with some plans for the future, or reassuring me that this sort of thing happened, it was part of our life, at least I didn't do it all the time. Or maybe Esme would arrive, her arms aching with love and forgiveness, holding me close and telling me how special I am to her, how precious and gentle, how different from the monster I feel like. It could have been Carlisle, come to reason with me, to listen to me explain, in halting sentences, how I feel and to offer his compassionate wisdom on the matter. I might even have expected Edward to return for round two, where he reminded me that he had told me all along that this was what it meant to be a vampire and once upon a time I had thought he was worth it.

I hadn't expected Jasper. He had killed so many, surely he wouldn't understand how I felt today. He was usually on the edges of any family drama, never pushing himself into the centre. He didn't get excited like Alice, or angry like Edward. He was cool headed; he didn't run into a situation. Though Jasper cared for me - it was impossible to avoid knowing how Jasper felt - he wasn't usually demonstrative. He wasn't the most likely to volunteer a hug.

I wasn't expecting Jasper to walk up the stairs to my room.

I would have stayed there indefinitely: lying on my back, hating myself and longing for a sleep that I could never have again. But, Jasper knocked softly on the door.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. I could smell who he was, even if I hadn't recognised the sound of his boots approaching. And it was obvious why he was here.

There are no secrets in this family. Everyone knows about what I have done; Jasper's the one who 'cleaned up'. Everyone also knows about my row with Edward, and the background to it. Jasper didn't need to tell me why he was here.

So, after knocking, he didn't say anything. He waited outside my door.

If I had left Edward waiting outside a door, he would pace up and down until I let him him, huffing in frustration. Alice would jump up and down; Rose would hammer the door repeatedly; Emmett would have just walked in by now. But, Jasper, stood quietly and waited.

He wasn't using his gift on me. Yet I felt calmer now that he was here. Even without his gift, Jasper carried an aura of calm around with him. There was an unhurried smoothness to Jasper's every action, as though he was quite confident that he had all the time in the world at his disposal. I suppose that he did.

I got up and opened the door.

"Hey," I said, not being at my most articulate.

Jasper nodded at me. "May I come in?"

His lack of eagerness was surprising. He was married to Alice, the most eager person I had ever met, but none of that seemed to have rubbed off on him. I got the feeling that, if I had refused entry, Jasper would have nodded again and gone away. He wasn't going to beg me to let him in. And, strangely, the fact that he didn't really mind being told to go away, stopped me wanting to send him away. Perversely, I didn't mind him being there because he wouldn't mind not being there.

"Sure," I said, and stepped aside to let him in.

I suppose Jasper never needs to ask anyone how they're feeling. I was still grateful that he didn't ask me.

Instead he looked solemn and asked, "would you like to know about the man?"

It was obvious what man he meant.

I couldn't bring myself to speak, but I managed a tiny nod.

"He wasn't married," Jasper said, "no children. He was a finance director who flew light aircraft as a hobby. He coached junior cricket and served Christmas dinner at a homeless shelter every year. He painted, though not particularly well, and had a nice collection of nineteenth century oils. He left a large bequest to the shelter, something to a local school at the rest to his only brother. His plane will be found by a park ranger, and they'll send someone to inform the brother. It'll be a young officer who makes the notification, and it will be handled sensitively."

Jasper was used to talking about the future as just another field of research, but it was strange for me to hear him slide so easily from the man's will to a scene that hadn't happened yet.

"Alice?" I asked.

He nodded, "she helped me ensure that his plane will be found in the right district at the right time to ensure the best officer talks to the family."

Charlie used to give death notifications sometimes, and I remember him saying that there's a skill to it. Some officers manage to be gentle and clear, getting the bad news across as easily as possible, others struggle not to make a bad situation worse by creating confusion or drama. It was good that the man's brother would at least get a professional notification.

He never asked me whether I wanted him to lift my guilt. I'm thankful for that, because I don't know what I would have said. It was easy not to ask him to help me, but it wouldn't have been so easy to refuse help if it were offered.

"What was his name?" I asked. I needed to know that. I needed to know who I'd killed.

Jasper gave me a long, appraising look, trying to decide whether it was a good idea for him to answer. I must have looked calm enough, or needy enough, or something enough, because eventually he said: "Adam Dart."

It was just a name. Yet, it felt like do much more. It was the name, the one that I would always remember and regret.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Jasper nodded. He had told me everything he could. He left now, as quietly as he'd arrived.

Adam Dart.

I repeated the name to myself over and over. It felt right to name him, as though I had managed to give him back a little bit of dignity. He wasn't just a helpless body full of blood in my mind anymore. He was a real man, he was Adam. He had been a good man. The world was a worse place without him in it.


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't forget about what I had done. I couldn't.

But, I did leave my room.

There was packing to be done, paperwork to be completed, a new back story to create. I couldn't hide in my room, wishing for oblivion. All this trouble was my fault, so, of course, I tried to be as helpful as possible.

And I tried to ignore the quick, worried glances that my family kept giving me. Whenever I looked out of the window or my hands tensed up around what I was holding, my family would notice and dart unhappy looks at one another. Whenever I flinched at Edward's touch - and how could I not? It was my overwhelming desire for his touch that had let to this terrible crime - everyone in the room flinched in response.

Edward kept trying, I don't really know why. He kept brushing his hand against mine. He kept leaning in close to whisper to me. He kept trying to share desk space, pens, brochures, anything he could think of to share I suppose. He kept trying to get close, trying to love me, and I kept shrugging him off, sliding away, leaving him to hold the papers by himself. We already shared the title of murderer, I no longer wanted to share anything else.

It was a dark time. Made darker, I suppose, by the constant knowledge that this was my own work. I had wrought this. And, with my cursed perfect mind, I couldn't forget and I couldn't pretend, not for a single moment.

I did not carry my guilt well, and I knew it was hurting the others. I knew they wanted to help me, wanted to distract me, wanted to relate to me again, but I couldn't bear it. I was a monster. I had been so blinded by my own lust for Edward, my own selfish desire to have my happy-ever-after with him, that I had been willing to kill (and most probably to kill repeatedly, who would bet anything on my first 'slip' also being my last?) in order to get what I wanted. Nobody deserves eternal bliss. What made me think that I could have it? There was bound to be a price, and an innocent, decent man had paid it.

We moved two days after the murder. I drove alone, starting my engine when Edward was still talking to Alice. I drove away fast, without a backward glance, leaving my husband to get a lift from anyone but me.

Being alone with my thoughts didn't help. But, I didn't expect it to. I didn't really want it to. I wanted to brood and suffer. It was the only thing that felt right.

When I got to the new house, Edward wasn't there. Alice met me at the door, grabbed my hand in a vice-like grip and led me, not into the house, but around the back, through the garden, to a park on the edge of our property.

Esme, Rose and Emmett were stood there, waiting for us, holding spades.

For a second, I wondered if they were about to bury someone else. But, they didn't look panicked, like Edward had after I had killed, just solemn.

"Bella," Esme said softly, "the time has come for you to join our moving ceremony."

I frowned. Why would we have a moving ceremony with only half of the family?

"I am so glad that you've never joined us before," Esme went on, "but, now that you are here, I hope this can give you some of the peace it has given to us."

That made very little sense. If Esme didn't want me here, then why was I here at all? I'd never asked to be a part of any private ritual.

"We do this every time we move," Rose said, giving me a quizzical look, "it might not seem like much at first. These things are serious and they take serious time."

"It'll help," Alice said, impatience at the edge of her voice, "just get on with it."

"It's a ceremony of remembrance," Esme explained. "In order to keep the secret, and keep our family safe, we have to run away from our crimes. But, we want to honour those whose lives we have ended. So, everywhere we go, we carry their memory with us, and we plant something in memory of them. All the places we have ever been, we left behind new growth, plants that produce oxygen, food and shelter - all things that we no longer need, but humans rely on. In the names of the deceased, we try to bring a little life back."

I looked around, we were stood in a scrubby area, it certainly looked as though it could do with a bit of life.

"So, are you in?" Emmett asked.

I nodded, "I would like to," I said, "I don't see how one little plant makes up for what I've done, though."

"It doesn't," Rose said flatly, "but, you are more than just one action. You are all of your actions. Make some of them good ones."

Alice rolled her eyes at our sister's typically gloomy view. "Not just one plant," she said, "an eternity of new trees and bushes, flowers and fruit, bird perches, squirrel holes, logs for the fire, bouquets for loved ones, all over the world. The first piece of a beautiful creation, for Adam's sake."

I smiled.

For the first time since it had happened, since I had happened, I smiled. Alice did conjure up a wonderful picture. I wanted to do something to commemorate Adam's life, and this was something.

Esme took charge of preparing the ground, and we followed her directions. All of us working hard, paying attention to every tiny detail. We wanted this ground to be perfect for these precious plants.

Finally, Esme's directions stopped, "we're ready to plant," she said.

Then everyone fell silent.

I followed the others as they filed over to the tree line, where a line of saplings were waiting for us. One by one, we selected our tree, and carried it to its new home.

I dug the hole, lowered my fragile baby tree into its new place. "Goodbye, Adam," I whispered, "I'm sorry."

I watered the tree in. It looked vulnerable and small.

But, when I looked around, I saw that my little sapling was already being surrounded by others. I watched my family, seriously, and carefully planting their own trees, whispering their own unforgettable names.

It didn't erase the past. I know that can never be done. But, it made the future a better place, and, honestly, that's all we can ever hope to do.

"I pick the sites carefully," Alice explained, a little more subdued than usual, as we walked back to the new house, "to give our plants the best possible chance. And Esme selects plants to suit the different areas we live in, to do the most good to local wildlife."

I nodded, "how long have you been doing this?"

"Always," Alice said, "Esme began it, and she's always invited us all to join her, if we . . ." she gave me a sympathetic smile, since we all knew why this was the first time I had been invited, "need to."

"Carlisle doesn't come?"

Esme smiled, the saddest smile I had ever seen, "no need," she said, "not for him."

"Where are Edward and Jasper? Don't they take part?"

It was strange that they were missing, surely they needed this ceremony more than all of us.

Alice frowned slightly, but finally she answered, "tomorrow," she said, "Edward and Jasper have their own version. You'll understand when you look out of the window tomorrow morning."

"When should I look out of the window?"

"You'll know," Alice said. I hate it when she's cryptic.

The next morning came. And, actually, I did know when to look. I mean I looked several times early in the morning and saw nothing enlightening, but when the moment Alice had told me about occurred, I knew. There was the most almighty racket.

So, I looked, knowing this was the right time, and I saw a truck: a massive green truck, being driven by Edward, with Jasper sat in the passenger seat. What were they up to? What was this? Should I follow them?

But, as they drove past my open window, I smelt it. Perhaps I would have noticed the scent with my human senses, but with my vampire super senses it was unmistakable: they were driving a truck full of wildflowers.

Then I understood why they hadn't joined us yesterday. They had so many more plants to plant.

Alice appeared behind me again, even for a vampire she's stealthy.

"They'll be back tomorrow," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day came, I kept checking the window. Emmett kept sniggering at me.

"You're like a kid waiting for snow," he said.

I sighed, "maybe if someone would just tell me what it is that I'm meant to be waiting for, then I wouldn't worry about missing it."

"Oh, you won't miss it, Bells," he said, with an annoying tap to the side of his nose, "believe me."

When the time came, though, Alice was right, I did know. There was an almighty clatter.

I ran to the window. I watched a huge, green lorry heave into sight. And I smelt it: compost, flowers, leaves, I could smell the roots. A massive lorry, full of baby plants. I couldn't count them (I'm a vampire, not an omniscient being) but there were certainly hundreds.

As the lorry drove past, I saw - as I knew I would - Edward was driving, Jasper sat beside him. They weren't smiling. They wore the same solemn expressions that we had all worn the day before.

I took in the size of the lorry and - easily now I was a vampire - calculated the number of plants it could carry. I gasped.

"So many, I did not think death . . ." the line dwindled on my lips.

And Alice was there at my side, knowing - I suppose - better than anyone else could, what it meant to see Edward driving that lorry. Jasper, after all, was right next to him.

"They will come home," she said, "but, it may take them a couple of days. A lot of gardening to do, and a lot of thinking."

"So, this is how you do it," I said, "this is how you can do the things you do, and still be people."

"For now," Alice agreed, "this is how we do it for now."

* * *

Edward did come home.

I found that I could look at him now. Things couldn't go back to the way they had been. No, I couldn't love Edward with the easy, naïve freedom that I had before. But, that didn't mean that I couldn't love him. I could love him now with a hard won determined love. We had both seen things we couldn't forget, and done things we couldn't erase. We were older now, and our love was tempered by pain and mistakes and forgiveness. It was a stronger, love, though, and more solid and real.

When I greeted my husband, I looked him in the eye and saw that he really did understand me, after all.

"Welcome home," I said, hugging him close, feeling him slot back into place. The fit was so perfect, it was hard to remember why I had ever stopped wanting to hold him.

He hugged me back, tightly, "I am so glad to see you," he said, tucking his chin against my neck, burying himself in me, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For still being here," he said softly, "I wasn't sure if you would be."

It had been days since we'd hrld each other, but it felt longer. It felt like the seasons had changed since I last wrapped my arms around my husband. Once I started, I remembered how much I liked this feeling, and I longed to get closer.

I slid one hand under his shirt, wanting to feel the flesh of him, wanting to touch him, with nothing between us.

He guessed my feelings and grinned at me, his crooked smile of happiness that had been many times deferred.

"Come on, love," he said, "let's take this outside. We don't want to damage the new house, not yet."

Only because I knew how fast he could be, I let him run with me, out into the grounds, where there was nothing but earth to tear up, and nothing but rocks to smash. We made up and made love and made memories together in the new land belonging to the new house.

We also made a mess. Wrapped up together, sated and in tune, we looked around at the devastation our passion had left.

"We don't want to be the first ones to break the new house," Edward said.

I laughed and agreed with him.

We snuggled up, under the stars, and he said, "Bella, I think it's time that I made my confession to you. I'll understand if you can't bear to hear it. But, I would really like you to know all that there is left to know about me. Will you hear my confession, love?"

"Your confession?" It dawned slowly and I had to breathe for a moment to steady myself.

"I want to tell you exactly what I've done. You know now, that I carry them with me, every single one. I know all my kills by name. I know parts of their stories. I can never forget a single detail. I know their last outfits, their last words, their last thoughts, every one of them. I know whom I have murdered. It is my sin, and, if you can stand to hear it, Bella, I need to make my full confession."

Of course he did. To carry those names, those faces, all those final breaths in his head, never able to get away from them; what pain that must be.

But, I shared that pain now. It's not about numbers. Adam Dart was a person, an infinitely precious life. However many infinities Edward has destroyed, there is no bigger scale to measure by.

I know now what those names are, what it means to remember them and to say them. Edward has carried them for a long time. It's time for him to lay his burden down on the lap of someone who loves him above all things.

I would have listened to him at any time he asked. But, now is the right time, because now I know. I am ready to hear his confession.

"Tell me."

"One," Edward began, "Jane Silva . . ."


End file.
